


Mine and Mine Alone

by consoledacup



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-23
Updated: 2017-07-27
Packaged: 2018-11-18 01:08:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 13,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11280579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/consoledacup/pseuds/consoledacup
Summary: "I have no team," Fitz said with conviction. “My name is Dr. Leopold Fitz, and I’m to blame for everything. It’s time for me to pay for what I’ve done.”-What would've happened if Fitz wasn't so quick to listen to Daisy and the rest of the team and had gone through with his plans anyway?





	1. Penance

“Yeah, you should go while you can,” Fitz reluctantly said to the team. He didn’t want to say goodbye. He didn’t want to lose them.

But he had already decided what needed to be done. 

Coulson looked confused. “Yeah, we’re all going.” 

“No, I’m gonna stay.” 

He went on to explain how he deserved the blame for all of it – all of it – until Daisy interrupted him. 

Until Daisy tried to absolve him. She shared her struggle wrestling with her own demons. 

But still, he had already decided what needed to be done.

“You have nothing to apologize for.” 

May chimed in her firm and steady agreement, and then _she_ chimed in with a pithier firm and steady agreement.

But it was no use. 

He couldn’t make what happened in the Framework right. 

But fucking hell, he would spend the rest of his days trying. 

“It’s my price to pay. Not yours. Go.” 

“Turbo, we’re not letting you take the fall for this,” Mack said gently.

“Yeah, that’s where you’re wrong, Mack. Because I’m not letting any of you shoulder the blame for my actions.” 

“Fitz, you can’t do this,” Jemma’s tone was fierce, and he had been wondering when she was going to intervene. 

Try to intervene.

His mind was made up. 

He had already decided what needed to be done.

He wouldn’t meet her eyes. 

He couldn’t. 

“Go,” Fitz said hoarsely. “Now.” 

“Look, Fitz, I’m not saying we’re definitely gonna get locked up. But if we do, we do. You’re not gonna face this alone.” Coulson was stubborn.

But Fitz was even more so.

“It’s my fault. Please.” Fitz took a deep, wavering breath. “Respect my decision. And go.” 

The team was startled by a loud thumping noise, and they heard faint voices and radio chatter.

“You guys have a small window. Get out of here. Now.”

And then he ran.

-

“Fitz, no!” Jemma sprinted after him, and she heard footsteps behind her, but she could barely pay attention to any of it because Fitz – her Fitz – was about to make the biggest mistake of his life. 

And considering their line of work, that was saying something. 

“Jemma!” She heard Coulson hiss behind her. 

She ignored him and kept running. 

“Fitz!” She cried when she caught up to him. 

He spun sharply around. “Jemma.” 

“Fitz, don’t–” 

“Jemma,” He cut her off, grabbing her arm and guiding her back the way she came. “Get out of here. They’ll hear you.” 

“Then come with us,” she retorted back. 

Her shock had transformed into fury, and she could barely see straight through her anger. 

“You’re making a mistake,” she seethed. 

“I have to do this, Jemma. So let me.” He beckoned Coulson over.

“No,” she struggled free from his grasp. “Fitz, I can’t watch you do this.”

“You shouldn’t watch me do this. Leave, Jemma. Escape while you can.” 

“But I love–” 

The voices were much louder now, and she realized she and Coulson had followed him to the doorway of the hangar. The wall hid them from view, so they didn’t have to worry about being spotted.

Yet.

Fitz looked at her and gave her a brave little smile. “Bye, Jemma.” He looked past her to Coulson and gave him a nod, and Coulson returned the nod back in a look of mutual understanding. 

And then she felt a firm grip on her wrist behind her as Fitz stepped into the line of fire, revealing himself to the soldiers.

“Don’t shoot!” He yelled with his arms raised high in the air. “I’m here to turn myself in.” 

Jemma managed to wrangle herself away from Coulson enough to inch closer to the scene, making sure to keep herself hidden.

Coulson watched her movements carefully and then scooted next to her, apparently convinced she wasn’t going to do anything crazy.

Like turn herself in.

“Where’s the rest of your team?” One of the soldiers barked. 

“I have no team,” Fitz said with conviction. “My name is Dr. Leopold Fitz, and I’m to blame for everything. It’s time for me to pay for what I’ve done.”

Jemma brought a hand to her mouth to stifle her sobs as she watched another soldier grab Fitz’s hands roughly, cuffing them behind his back. “Leopold Fitz, you are under arrest for the murder of former S.H.I.E.L.D. Director Jeffery Mace…”

The soldier’s speech became white noise, and Jemma couldn’t breathe.

Fitz didn’t even turn around as he was led away.

She knew he could feel her eyes on him, and still, he didn’t even turn around.

Perhaps it was to make the separation easier. 

Give her a clean break. 

She didn’t know. 

She didn’t care. 

All she knew was he was ripped apart from her once more after not even 48 hours of getting him back. 

That was all she knew. 

The rest of the team appeared, and one look at her face told them all they needed to know. 

They quickly boarded Zephyr One, and she sat away from the others.

She barely registered Daisy sliding into a seat next to her. 

Daisy reached for her hand. 

And when the Zephyr had officially taken off, there were two things she was certain of:

They had a real chance of remaining in the shadows. 

And Fitz was gone for good.

-

Life in prison was surprisingly routine. 

Apart from the fact that he was serving time in _prison_.

He hadn’t spoken with his cellmate at all which was just as well. 

He wasn’t there to make friends.

He was there to pay the consequences for his actions. 

Nothing more, nothing less. 

He did wish for more pleasant meals though. 

He couldn’t help it. 

Everything there tasted like dog food. 

-

Jemma wrestled with her fifth consecutive sleepless night in her bunk on the Zephyr. 

The team had decided that it was far too risky to return to the base after everything that happened, so it was best for them to remain in the air. 

It was oddly reminiscent of their days on the Bus. 

Which only made her ache for Fitz all the more. 

She was heartbroken and stricken with grief and furious with him all at once.

What gave him the right to do what he did? 

Even when they were completely and utterly honest with how they felt about him, he still abandoned the team. 

Even when she begged and she pleaded, he still abandoned her. 

He was the only one preventing himself from being happy.

From fully healing. 

And that – in turn – prevented her from being happy. 

He may have thought his actions were selfless, and a part of her agreed with him. 

But another part of her remained irate with him. 

And that was the part that kept her up for the fifth night in a row.

She missed him. 

Plain and simple.

But if he continued to insist on atoning for his sins, there was nothing she could do about it. 

And that infuriated her. 

How could she help the man she loved more than anything or anyone in the entire world when he wasn’t willing to let her? 

He gave up on himself. 

Thus, he gave up on her.

-

It had been two weeks since his incarceration when his cellmate finally spoke up.

“You stopped crying.” 

Fitz stopped his exercises, mid-crunch, and turned to face him. “Excuse me?” 

“You haven’t woken me up in awhile from your fucking crying. Guess that means you stopped.” 

The guy was about his height and weight  – someone he could probably take on – and really, Fitz had had about enough of… of _all of it_ to even care what the other man thought about him. 

“If it bothered you so much, you could’ve said something earlier.” 

“Looks like I just did. Guess I don’t have to check you for tits or a pussy after all.” 

Fitz rolled his eyes. “Bet you’re so relieved.” 

“So, who is she?” 

“Who?” Fitz feigned confusion.

“Jemma. The name you keep saying in your sleep.” 

“She’s no one. Leave it alone.” 

His cellmate raised his eyebrow. “Oh, yeah? You also said other names in your sleep too. ‘Ophelia’, ‘Skye’, ‘Agnes’… you’re the fucking ladies’ man, aren’t you? I figure if you’re neglecting your Jemma for these other bitches, I could fuck her myself and show her what a –” 

The wanker didn’t even see Fitz’s punch coming.

 


	2. Confession

 

It didn’t take long for his cellmate to retaliate, and they soon found themselves themselves in an all-out, drag-out brawl. 

He ignored the fresh wave of searing pain from his side and tackled his assailant to the floor.

"Break it up!” A voice thundered outside their cell. Fitz came back to focus first, quickly extracting himself from his cellmate, and faced a corrections officer staring them down. The other guy eventually did the same. “This is your third violation, Conrad. You know the rules: ‘three strikes, you’re out’. You’re going to solitary.” 

Fitz saw a brief look of horror flash across Conrad’s face, and before he could stop himself, he spoke up. “It’s not his fault. It’s mine. I started it.” 

The officer looked back and forth between Fitz and Conrad before finally asking, “That true, Conrad?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Yes, _sir_. _”_

“Yes, _sir._ ” Conrad rolled his eyes. 

The officer looked back over at Fitz. “What’s your name, son?” 

“Leopold Fitz, sir.” 

“Not off to a good start, are we?” 

“No, sir.” 

“I can tell you’re gonna give me trouble, Fitz. So instead of two warnings, you only get one. This one: the next time you find yourself wrapped up in a dick-pissing contest, you’ll be in solitary so fast, you won’t have time to zip back up your fly. Understand?” 

“Yes, sir.” _Though the graphic metaphor was a bit much._

“Conrad, you got lucky. Next time, you won’t be.” 

“Yes, sir.” Conrad parroted. 

The officer left without another word but not before giving them both one last lethal look. 

Fitz refrained from smirking. Neither man knew what he had gone through. What nightmares he had experienced. 

This little intimidation ploy was nothing. 

 _Why don’t you try staring a literal hell beast in the eye on another planet?_ He thought saucily. _That’s intimidation._

“This doesn’t makes us boyfriends,” Conrad muttered. 

“A shame, that is. Pricks are just my type too,” Fitz fired back.

He sat down on his bed and leaned against the wall. Was this who he was now? Getting into fights with his cellmates...

...in _prison_? 

This wasn’t him. 

He brought a hand to his aching jaw and massaged it gently. 

This was something...

This was something...

This was something **Ward** would’ve done.

_Perfect._

-

Jemma huffed, crossing her arms. “I don’t understand what’s preventing us from getting Fitz out of there. You were able to get Robbie’s uncle out of jail in no time, were you not?” 

“Things are different now, Agent Simmons,” Coulson answered patiently. “May and I were able to walk in there and flash our S.H.I.E.L.D. badges. Now, not so much.” 

Jemma rolled her eyes. “So obviously Daisy can’t be there.” 

“Fitz was the one who called all the plays last time. He was in control of all the entrance and exit routes,” Mack spoke up.

“Give Daisy and me five minutes. Three, if we’re really focused.” 

“Simmons,” May said firmly. “You need to consider the real possibility that Fitz might not want to be rescued.” 

May’s words triggered something in her. Something she had been quietly suppressing ever since the Framework. 

“I don’t care what he wants right now. He can lock himself in the containment module for the rest of his days if that’s what he chooses. But he shouldn’t be _there_.” 

She stormed away from the group and retreated to her bunk. 

She would figure out a way to get him out of there. 

And if she was the only one in this fight, then so be it.

-

“Sorry,” Fitz said several hours later.

It was dark, but the room still contained a sliver of light from their barred window.

“What?” 

“Sorry.” Fitz repeated himself. “I don’t... I don’t usually do that.” 

“Why the fuck should I care what you--” 

“You shouldn’t. I’m just... forget it.” 

They sat in silence for a good stretch of time until Conrad spoke up. 

“You care a lot about that Jemma girl, don’t you?”

Fitz chuckled darkly. “You have no idea.” 

“Why hasn’t she visited you then?” 

Fitz knew Conrad was trying to get under his skin. Hit him where it hurt the most. 

Only, Fitz was relieved Jemma hadn’t tried to visit. It meant she was safe. And his sacrifice was worth it. 

So he ignored the question and let Conrad’s words hang in the air. 

“You’re Leopold, right? I heard you tell Schwartz your name.” 

“I prefer Fitz.” 

“Hey, man. I understand shitty first names. It’s why I go by my last one too.” 

“No, that’s not... doesn’t matter,” Fitz sighed. “What shitty first name are you stuck with?” 

“Leslie.” 

“That is... unfortunate.” Fitz agreed. “You know, we should get your injuries looked at in the morning. When it’s lighter.” 

“Why the hell should I let you--” 

“I’m a doctor,” Fitz smiled grimly. 

“No shit?” 

“Not medically speaking, technically... but I’ve seen quite a bit in my line of work.” 

“Oh, yeah? And what line of work would that be?” 

“That’s classified.” 

-

A knock startled Jemma awake a few days later. 

She was sleeping better but could still only manage four hours maximum.

She blearily welcomed the guest. Daisy stepped in the dark room and flicked the switch next to where she stood, flooding the room with light.

“I’m in,” Daisy said simply.

Jemma smiled. 

-

On the following Monday morning, Officer Schwartz came to see him again.

“Leopold Fitz?” 

Fitz lifted his head, and he and Conrad both peered curiously at the man outside their cell. 

“There’s an ‘Anne James’ to see you.” 

He ignored the confused look Conrad threw him, and he ignored the visitor protocol debrief Schwartz gave him. 

**Anne.**

**James.**

She _didn’t_.

-

Jemma adjusted her cap slightly and sat in the assigned seat. She drummed her fingers softly on the table in front of her, waiting for him. 

And then, six minutes later, there he was. 

He was accompanied by an armed guard and instructed to sit across from her. 

He glanced at her, shaking his head, and sat down. 

The moment the guard left them alone -- well, as alone as they could manage, considering the circumstances -- she took off her sunglasses. 

He stared at her for a long time. And then slowly picked up the corded phone.

She did the same.

“What the hell are you doing here?” 

His anger surprised her. 

But that was just fine. 

She had her fair share of it to match.

-

“I should ask you the same thing,” she retorted.

“You’re the one who requested the visit,” Fitz said defensively.

“That’s not what I meant.” 

“I’m doing it for you,” he said in a low tone, finally revealing a bit of his vulnerability. 

She shook her head. “I never asked you to do this. You’re doing this for _you_.” 

“Right,” Fitz replied sarcastically. “I’ve always dreamed of spending my days in a federal prison.” 

She broke away from his gaze and studied her hands, twisting the phone cord around her fingers that became white from the restricted circulation.

“The orange makes you look pastier than usual,” she said in a shaky voice when she finally looked back up at him. 

His heart ached.

Fitz watched a tear trail down her cheek, and he sniffled, wiping his own eyes. 

“Yeah, I should put in a formal complaint about that,” he murmured huskily.

She attempted a smile at his terrible joke.

He saw right through it.

“I miss you,” she whispered brokenly.

“I know,” he whispered back. 

“And,” she closed her eyes and then opened them again, letting more tears fall freely. “I lo--” 

“Stop.” 

She pressed her palm against the thick window separating them, blinking back more tears. “Why won’t you let me say it?” 

“I don’t...” Fitz exhaled deeply. “I don’t deserve it.” 

“You are not the man you think you are, Fitz,” Jemma said.

“No,” Fitz’s voice was hoarse. “I’m worse.” 

He refused to look away from her gaze and blindly placed his palm right where hers was, and in that moment, he wished -- more than anything in the world, he wished -- he could feel her hand through the glass. 

“Put your hand down,” she ordered quietly. 

Fitz didn’t even try to conceal his hurt, let alone his confusion. 

Wasn’t she the one who initiated the gesture?

He looked down to where their hands almost met and gently removed his.

And it took one look at hers to understand what she meant:

##  **_W  
_ _237_ **

-

Read from the beginning **[here](http://consoledacup.tumblr.com/tagged/Mine-and-Mine-Alone)** or **[here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11280579/chapters/25231047)** , and join in on the pain.


	3. Deliverance

Fitz read the message quickly and flicked his eyes back to hers in understanding.

He gave her the slightest of nods.

She cleared her throat, and when she removed her hand, the message was gone.

Somehow she had formulated a certain ink that could only be seen when it came into contact with a glasslike substance.

It was child’s play, compared to what they were used to creating, but he couldn’t hold back a small, impressed grin.

Schwartz came back then, informing them they had one more minute.

They both silently acknowledged the man, but he didn’t walk away this time.

Fitz attempted to keep things light, knowing their time for private conversation was over.

“Until next time, Anne James,” Fitz said warmly, savoring the way her appointed name sounded. 

She nodded. “Bye, Fitz.”

They hung up their respective phones, and she put her sunglasses back on.

She issued a small wave, and then Fitz watched her turn around without a second glance his way.

_Bye, Jemma._

_-_

Jemma left the facility and kept walking until she was completely alone, away from surveillance of any kind. 

The Zephyr uncloaked right in front of her and touched down, giving her enough time to climb aboard. 

Coulson looked at her expectantly. 

“Message delivered,” she informed him.

He nodded and then twisted around to face the cockpit. “Okay, May, get us back up in the air.” 

When Daisy had approached her, explaining she had hacked her way in the system, she and Jemma brought the team together and shared their idea. 

After weighing the pros and cons, Coulson had given them the green light, and the others quickly offered their support and expertise. 

And if all went according to plan, the fallout would be minimal. 

At the appointed time he was given, Fitz would literally be able to walk out of his cell and escape into the night without a single obstacle in his path.

The public wasn’t as familiar with Jemma’s face as they were with the infamous Quake’s, so they figured simple was best in terms of a light disguise. And they were right. She wasn’t even given a second glance. 

Daisy was in charge of the security feed and was planning on jamming said feed by rigging it with a prerecorded loop. She also sat down with Mack, explaining the inner workings of the locking system he needed to hack, and he filled in any of the missing information regarding the actual mechanics of the locks. She didn’t leave his side until they were both confident he could open and close the necessary doors. 

Coulson would be monitoring the rest of the inmates and the staff, prepared to alert the team should any one of them notice something awry.

Yo-Yo was the back-up muscle, willing to get her hands dirty and physically break into the establishment to extract Fitz should things go south. 

May was to wait in the cockpit, so she would be ready for liftoff at a moment’s notice.

Jemma had already done her part by relaying the day and time.

But she still insisted on standing with Yo-Yo outside the facility to greet him. 

No one tried to persuade her otherwise.

-

Schwartz led Fitz back to his cell and left with a grunt, ignoring Fitz’s small “thanks”. 

Conrad watched the officer go and then turned to Fitz. “Who the hell is Anne?” 

Fitz rolled his eyes.

But apparently, Conrad had been starved for company because he didn’t let Fitz’s blatant lack of response deter him. 

“You missed breakfast.” 

“What a pity,” Fitz grumbled. “Breakfast” was a very generous term to describe what they were served. 

“Other guys in here know who you are. Overheard them in the chow hall.”

Fitz’s eyes widened at that, and he tried to mask his reaction, but Conrad’s smug little smile told him he was terribly unsuccessful.

“Is it true what they say? Did you really murder the director of S.H.I.E.L.D.?” 

Fitz sat down heavily on his bed. “My actions and motives led to his death, so yes. I’m guilty.” 

“What a bullshit answer.” 

Fitz shrugged. “Take it or leave it. It’s the truth.” 

“You just don’t seem like the type is all.” 

Fitz narrowed his eyes. “You’d be surprised what I’m capable of.” 

“I'll take your word for it, Doctor,” Conrad chuckled in disbelief.

Fitz tensed.

...

_We have him, **Doctor**._

_It’s ‘ **Dr.** Fitz’._

_My son, the **Doctor** himself._

_..._

“Don’t ever call me that again.”

“What, ‘Doctor’? That’s what you are, right?” 

Fitz sighed. “Yes. But I’d just as soon take the name ‘Leslie’ over the... the other thing.” 

Conrad stared at him, mouth agape. “You’re a strange son of a bitch, you know that?” 

“Yeah,” Fitz forced out a laugh, content to be veering toward more familiar territory. “Yeah, I do.” 

-

Wednesday afternoon, Jemma sat at one of the computers in the control room, triple-checking all aspects of their mission. 

She leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes for a moment, implementing the breathing exercises May had taught her. 

She wasn’t lying. He did look paler than usual. 

He had grown more of a beard and had clearly lost a little bit of weight since she saw him last. 

And... he had such a defeated look to him. 

It stung to see him like that. 

In a prison of his own making.

She knew the love he had for her.

Yet he still wouldn’t accept hers. 

It stung, but she steeled herself to focus on the immediate. 

Her phone started to vibrate, and she looked at the screen. 

She debated on answering but ultimately took the call, preparing for the onslaught of questions. 

“Hi--” 

_“Jemma? He’s in jail?! What’s happened? Is he okay?”_

“We’re doing everything we--” 

 _“Imagine. Just seeing his face plastered all over the news.”_  

“I know. I know. He--” 

_“And what’s this about S.H.I.E.L.D. being labeled a terrorist organization?”  
_

“That wasn’t Daisy. It was--” 

She stopped herself short. She didn’t want to provide any more ammunition to those determined to keep Fitz locked up for life. 

Or worse.

Her phone was secure -- as secure as Fitz and Daisy had fashioned it to be -- but... she couldn’t take anything for granted.

 _“Is_ she _how he wound up in prison?”_

“No. Not exactly.” 

_“Have you seen him? Is he okay?”_

Jemma took a wavering breath, unable to stop the incoming tears. “He’s... he’s okay.” 

_“You can’t tell me anything more, can you?”_

“I wish I could. Just know that I love your son very, very much. And I won’t let anything happen to him.” 

The woman sighed on the other end.  _“Take care of him, Jemma.”_

“I will,” Jemma’s voice was thick with emotion.

_“And take care of yourself, too.”_

Jemma chuckled hollowly. “I’m getting there.” 

-

Lights out were at 11:00 p.m. sharp. An officer always completed his walk thru one hour later. 

And Conrad always passed out roughly thirty minutes after that. 

All of this meant if he lost track in his countdown that night, he had two semi-reliable timestamps to get him back on track. 

Counting three hours and thirty-seven minutes to the second was incredibly tedious, but at least it gave him something to do. 

When he estimated he was near the 2:30 mark, he gingerly stood up from his bed and inched closer to the door. 

He knew he was being watched, but he wondered when Daisy would inevitably take over the feed. 

He didn’t want to press his luck by doing something too out of the ordinary (he had the oddest urge to wave), but he figured standing by the door, looking out forlornly to the dark abyss painted him as a tortured soul and not an almost escapee.

And then it hit him. 

He was going to _escape_.

The team had rallied together and were going to spring him free. 

He looked back at Conrad and wondered how much trouble Conrad would get into once the officers discovered Fitz was gone.

He thought about the staff and wondered who would get sacked for negligence. 

He thought about his team and wondered who ran the risk of winding up behind bars themselves because they wanted to help him.

If he already wasn’t wide awake and near the door, he would’ve missed the small noise that penetrated the quiet.

The telltale clicking sound.

He stepped closer to the door and carefully tested his hypothesis. 

The door opened easily. 

He looked back at Conrad and looked at the other sleeping inmates and then finally, apologetically, looked at the little blinking camera in the hallway. 

And then, with a gentle finesse, he shut the door until the lock latched back into place. 

-

Read from the beginning **[here](http://consoledacup.tumblr.com/tagged/Mine-and-Mine-Alone)** or **[here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11280579/chapters/25231047)** , and join in on the pain.


	4. Purgatory

Fitz backed away from the door slowly and returned to his bed. 

He would not and could not be responsible for anymore pain or hurt. 

He understood what that meant for his team. They stuck their neck out for him, and this how he repays them.

He understood what that meant for Jemma. She was likely to never speak to him again. 

She shouldn’t. 

Maybe this is what needed to happen to finally keep her away from him.

He knew his team thought the best of him. 

But that was on them.

He was too dangerous of a person to not be locked up. 

To not suffer the consequences. 

He ki--

He brought a hand to his mouth. And forced himself to focus on his breathing, just as May had taught him.

But it was no use. 

His breaths turned into shallow gasps which then turned into sobs, and he leaned against the wall and buried his head in his hands, allowing his raised knees to support him.

And then. 

Just like he had done every night since he was rescued from the Framework. 

He made himself remember. 

_He tortured._

_He tortured people. Inhumans. Through experimentation. He was the modern day Werner Reinhardt. And delighted in that fact._

_He walked through the Triskellion, everyday, unaffected by the screams._

_He walked through the Triskellion, everyday, ordering the horrific acts that caused those screams._

_His name was one people respected._

_His name was one people **feared**. _

_He killed people._

_Not just one._ That would’ve already been too much.

 _Not just two._ That would’ve weighed heavily on him for the rest of his days. 

_No._

_**Two.** _

_**Dozen.** _

_He thinks._

_He thinks it’s been two dozen._

_He lost count._

He fucking lost count.

It didn’t matter that they weren’t real.

He didn’t know that. 

He didn’t know that, and that’s what made him a wicked monster. 

A bad person.

The  _ **Doctor**. _

He killed Agnes. 

He killed Director Mace. 

They were dead. 

Because of who he was.

He didn’t deserve his team’s help. 

Or their love. 

And he didn’t deserve escape.

-

Jemma and Yo-Yo looked at each other nervously, and then Jemma glanced at her watch. 

The time read 2:59 a.m. Where the hell was he? 

“Agents Simmons and Rodriguez,” they both pressed their fingers to their ears to listen to Coulson on comms. “Get back to the Zephyr. Repeat. Get back to the Zephyr.” 

“What? What’s happened, sir?” Jemma asked worriedly. 

“That’s an order.” 

Jemma threw Yo-Yo another anxious look, but they hurried to the Zephyr, and once they boarded, May began the necessary protocol to get them air bound.

“Fitz is still there. We can’t just leave him,” Jemma protested. 

“Jemma,” Daisy approached her. “There’s something you need to see.” 

The team gathered around Daisy’s monitor, watching a feed of Fitz in his cell. 

“See, right there,” Daisy pointed to the screen. “You can tell he heard the door unlock. He knew exactly what was happening.” 

They all watched, transfixed, as Fitz waited another minute and then opened the door.

And then they all watched as he looked around again, stared directly into the camera, and closed the door.

Jemma felt like the wind had been knocked out of her. 

“He didn’t want to leave,” Yo-Yo said slowly.

“I know this is a difficult situation. I know that we all care about Fitz,” Coulson looked at Jemma who quickly looked away. “He’s one of us. But until he decides he wants our help, I’m forbidding any further operations involving his rescue.”

“But, sir--” 

“Is that clear, Agent MacKenzie?” Coulson interrupted him.

“We can’t just leave him behind--”

“Mack,” Coulson said. “Fitz is in his right frame of mind.” 

Jemma scoffed at that.

“He isn’t swayed or brainwashed or under the influence of the Framework. This is his choice. And we have to respect his choice.” 

“He doesn’t want to be there,” Jemma spoke up quietly, and everyone turned to her. “He thinks he has to.” 

-

“Heard you again,” Conrad greeted him in the morning. 

“Yeah, well. I had a rough night.” Fitz continued making his bed, tucking the corners in, and fluffing his pillow.

Conrad nodded, and Fitz prepared himself for more questions.

But they didn’t come.

“Wanna go play chess?” 

Fitz stared at him.

He had only been in the dayroom a handful of times since his arrival. Whenever Conrad left to go, he welcomed the solitude of his cell. 

But here this guy was, unaware of his life as an evil leader of a cruel society, innocently inviting him to play chess to break up the boredom they faced in prison.

“Sure.” 

-

That was that then, wasn’t it? 

He completely pushed her away. 

He rejected her. 

Over and over again, he rejected her.

 _Message received_ , she thought bitterly.

She walked to the front of the jet and sat down in the co-pilot’s seat without saying a word. 

May turned to her and nodded briefly, acknowledging her presence. 

And then they embraced the quiet together.

-

Fitz easily beat Conrad four times in a row. 

“Were you a child prodigy chess champ or something?” Conrad huffed.

“Uh... no. No, not exactly.” 

“Then... how...”

Fitz felt for the guy, and before he knew it, he was imparting all sorts of wisdom about the game.

He didn’t know if Conrad was grateful or just annoyed.

Maybe both.

“Leopold Fitz.” 

He looked up to find Schwartz staring him down, and Conrad swiveled in his seat to glance up at the officer.

“You have a visitor.” 

_Um. What?_

He was sure his decision had been the final nail in the coffin of his and Jemma’s relationship. 

She had to be absolutely furious with him. 

But he was weak. And the thought of seeing her again... 

“Is it...” Fitz cursed himself for stumbling over his words. “Is it Anne James again?” His voice cracked on the word “Anne”, and Conrad turned back to face him, studying him.

“Someone different this time, son.” 

And when Schwartz read out the name, Fitz nodded, inwardly seething.

_You can’t be **serious**._

_-_

“I’d like to be brought up to speed on our other missions. I believe my expertise is needed, and with Fitz gone, you’re already severely lacking in the sci-tech department.” 

Coulson pursed his lips. “You’ve thought about this?” 

Jemma nodded. “Fitz clearly will not accept our help. And I need to continue doing my job.”

“He’ll come around, Jemma,” Coulson said half-heartedly. 

“I think he will too. But I’m worried about the circumstances that could possibly bring him to that point.” 

“Me too,” Coulson said knowingly, and then his lips quirked into a half smile. “Alright, Agent Simmons, let’s get you caught up.” 

-

Fitz sat down across from the woman and angrily lifted his phone to his ear. The woman mirrored him.

“Lily.  _Zebo_. Really?” 

The woman tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. “In the flesh.” 

“You must be absolutely out of your mind, walking in here.” 

The woman chuckled. “I missed you too, Fitz.” 

“I’m not joking. Get the hell out of here.” 

“You should be glad it’s me right now and not Miss James. At least, this way you’ll walk away with your balls still intact.” 

Fitz shifted uncomfortably from the image. 

“How is she?” 

The woman gritted her teeth. “Oh, you have no right to ask that.” But even as she finished her rebuke, her eyes softened at the pained look he gave her. She sighed. “She’s... she’s fine, Fitz. Just really, really hurt.” 

Fitz nodded and didn’t even try to stop the tears collecting in his eyes. “I know.” 

The woman studied him and then shook her head sadly. “Why, Fitz?” 

He knew exactly what she was asking.

“People would’ve been hurt,” he said in a low tone.

“Are you kidding? We all worked really hard to make sure that wasn’t going to happen.” 

Fitz scratched his beard. “Yeah, maybe not physically. But I bet they would’ve put Conrad in solitary and fired Schwartz and other guys just doing their job--”

“Who the hell is Conrad?” 

“I deserve to be in here,” Fitz said stubbornly.

“You realize you sound just like I did, right? Remember how angry you were at me for refusing your help?” 

“And you realize how fitting this is? Our roles are reversed now. Instead of me torturing you in prison, you’re the one who gets to interrogate me,” Fitz smiled sadly.

The woman sat back, looking hurt. “I don’t blame you for that. I already told you.” 

“It’s okay. I have enough blame for the both of us.” 

“Fitz...” The woman started to say something and then shook her head. “Anne says you don’t want to be here. I’m beginning to think she’s wrong.” 

“No,” Fitz’s lips quirked in an almost smile. “She’s right. I want to get out of here. But it has to be the right way.” 

“What are you... you can’t seriously mean--” 

“I already had my preliminary hearing.” 

“Fitz, they’ll crucify you--” 

“And if that’s what happens, so be it. But I’m going to let the Grand Jury decide.” 

-

Read from the beginning  **[here](http://consoledacup.tumblr.com/tagged/Mine-and-Mine-Alone)**  or  **[here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11280579/chapters/25231047)** , and join in on the pain.


	5. Brethren

He meant every word he said to Daisy. He told her to tell the rest of the team – to tell  _her_  –  to stop trying to save him.

He would continue with his trial and let the natural proceedings decide his fate.

He was set up with a lawyer, someone who worked for the state and was grossly underqualified to represent him. 

Though well-meaning at best, Paul Lebedev was too inept for the job to the point where Fitz almost considered representing himself. 

Almost. 

“Call me ‘Paul’, bro. ‘Mr. Lebedev’ is my father.” 

_Brilliant._  

-

When Daisy relayed to the team what Fitz had told her, they all shared a concerned look.

“He’s off his rocker,” Mack muttered. 

“There’s no way any jury in their right mind will rule in his favor,” Jemma said defeatedly. 

And then. 

She paused. Replaying the the words in her head. And lifted her eyes to find everyone beginning to smile in a conspiratorial manner. 

A smile that matched hers.

“Well, Agent Johnson,” Coulson began. “Let’s give him a jury that will.” 

Jemma joined Daisy, and they got to work right away.

-

“So how many cases have you done?” Fitz asked his attorney. 

“Including you? One. And a half.” 

“Great,” Fitz replied, not even bothering to find out what “half” meant.

Probably wasn’t good.

“You should take the plea bargain,” Paul suggested. “They’ll give you a lighter sentence, and you can serve your time in peace.” 

“No,” Fitz shook his head. “I don’t want any sort of bargaining. Either I’m guilty or innocent in their eyes. End of story.” 

“With your extensive rap sheet, we both know you have a slim chance of being declared innocent.” 

“That’s why they’re paying you the big bucks, right?”

“They’re paying me squat actually.” 

“Yeah, it was a… forget it,” Fitz exhaled wearily.

He was in for a long three weeks.

-

Daisy insisted on being there with the rest of the team, and Coulson shared his reservations. 

“Playing ‘Visitor’ is one thing, but walking in there, in view of everyone, for an extended period of time is too risky.” 

“I got this, Coulson. No one even gave me a second glance that day.” 

“I agree with him, Daisy,” Jemma spoke up. “I fear you’re pressing your luck.” 

“But just think how much of an impact six will make on the inside instead of five. That’s half, Jemma. Halfto sway the other side. All we have to do is let Mack do the talking. People will either be intimidated or charmed, and  _bam_. Fitz is out.” 

“If that’s your theory, then why should you be there too?” Jemma crossed her arms.

“I’m not sitting this one out. So you two better get on board with it.” 

-

“If Schwartz gives the all clear, you wanna go?” 

Conrad raised an eyebrow. “To your trial?” 

Fitz shrugged. “Why not? It’d help to have a friendly face.” 

“We’re not friends.”

Fitz rolled his eyes. “Okay. It’d help to have a familiar face, then. And you can be a character witness for me.” 

“You punched me the first time you spoke to me.” 

“Yeah, I didn’t leave the best first impression.” Fitz sighed. “Look. You don’t have to. But it’d help my case if a fellow inmate talks about my respectful behavior in here.” 

He was met with silence.

Just as well. 

“Maybe I’ll leave our fight out of it,” Conrad finally said.

Fitz gave him a small smile of thanks. “Good plan.” 

“But if they ask, I’m not lying for you. I’ll tell them what happened. I barely know you to get myself mixed-up in lying on the stand.” 

“I’d expect nothing less.” 

They sat in a comfortable silence for a couple minutes. 

“You gonna invite your harem of ladies?” Conrad smirked.

And… there it was.

“Hadn’t planned on it.” 

“‘Anne’ is Jemma, right? I saw the way you looked each time her name came up.”  

Fitz carefully schooled his features.

He might be able to  _maybe_  trust the guy, but he had to keep Jemma safe. 

He couldn’t know.

“And your face right now says it all.” 

Fitz gritted his teeth. 

“Look, man. I’m fine being a witness for you. But you gotta start being straight with me. At least give me something.” 

“Fine,” Fitz finally surrendered, figuring he had already tipped his hand.

  _Sorry, Jemma._  

“Yeah. Yeah. They’re the same person. You can’t tell a soul, okay?“

Conrad chuckled. “Look around you. Who the hell am I going to tell?” 

“I’m serious, Conrad. Her safety depends on it.” 

Conrad threw up his hands. “Okay, okay. I promise. Jesus.” 

“And don’t use the other name, okay? Just say ‘Anne James’.” 

“You know where she got the name from? You knew right away who Schwartz was talking about.” 

Fitz smiled softly. “I do. ’Anne’ is her middle name.” 

“And what about ‘James’?”

Fitz’s face split into a grin. “‘James’ is mine.”

-

“We’re all familiar with our assigned aliases, right? No one’s gonna slip up?” Coulson asked. He was met with various looks of offense, but he kept going. “Anyone need a pop quiz?”

Jemma stepped forward, ignoring him. “Daisy and I have been researching the other six jurors. Here’s what you should know.” 

Daisy pressed a key on her computer, and a profile appeared on the large monitor. “Addie Hart. 27. Single mother. Kid’s in the gifted and talented program at school.” 

“So we can get her to empathize with Fitz,” Yo-Yo supplied. 

“Exactly.” 

They went through the rest of the people, and after a couple of hours, the team felt confident with their objective. 

They were going to rescue Fitz. 

Through the power of rhetoric.

-

The day of the trial arrived, and Fitz and Conrad were cuffed and led to the courtroom inside the prison.

Paul walked up to them. “Big day, dudes. We got this in the bag.” He lifted his hand for a high five and then glanced at the cuffs and put his hand down sheepishly.

Fitz started to protest. “We’ve got nothing–” He did a double take and peered at the twelve people that made up the jury. He almost started crying on the spot. 

He saw a fedora-wearing Mack and a red-headed Yo-Yo and May with thick frames and Coulson decked out in camo and…

He saw Lily Zebo.

...

And…  _ **Anne**_. 

-

Read from the beginning  **[here](http://consoledacup.tumblr.com/tagged/Mine-and-Mine-Alone)**  or  **[here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11280579/chapters/25231047)** , and join in on the pain.


	6. Testimony

Chapter 6: Testimony

-

They were all here. He thought Daisy’s visit was the last he would see of any of them, but there they all were.

They respected his wishes but wouldn’t take “no” for an answer all the same.

He should’ve been furious with them. They were risking so much by being here. Especially Daisy.

But he could only stare at them in gratitude and awe and  **love**.

They were all here.

They were all here for him.

Because they were convinced he wasn’t a bad person.

And maybe -- just maybe -- he was starting to believe that again.

-

Jemma couldn’t keep her eyes off Fitz the minute he and another inmate walked into the courtroom. 

She hated seeing the cuffs on him. 

She hated his gray jumpsuit. 

She wished she could proclaim to the ends of the earth how amazing and heroic and good of a man Fitz was. 

But -- instead -- she’d convince six other people seated with her. 

“We got this,” Daisy whispered in her seat next to her. 

Jemma nodded. “We do.” 

She caught the moment he spotted them and briefly wondered if he would be angry at them or demand another jury. 

He had to know how much they cared for him. 

That they weren’t going to let him go without a fight.

And when he met her eyes, it looked as if he finally did. 

He wasn’t angry. 

He was overcome.

-

Conrad nudged him, breaking him out of his trance, and whispered, “If you stare too long, they’ll know something’s up.” 

He didn’t know how Conrad figured out he knew half the jury. 

Perhaps his face was a dead giveaway. 

He tore his gaze from Jemma’s. 

“Thanks.”

“She’s here, isn’t she?” Conrad asked. 

“Yeah,” Fitz murmured in disbelief. “She’s here.” 

He and Conrad sat down at the defendant’s table. 

Paul sat with them but only after dropping and feverishly gathering back his entire caseload of documents and notes.

“My bad, bro,” He patted the officer next to them after retrieving the entire contents of his briefcase off the man’s feet. 

“We’re fucked,” Conrad muttered.

_-_

“All rise.” 

Jemma didn’t hear the bulk of the bailiff’s introductory speech as she stood with everyone else.

She was far too nervous for Fitz. 

_This is it,_ she thought to herself.  _It all ends here._

“Honorable Judge Tillman presiding,” the bailiff concluded. 

“Good afternoon, ladies and gentleman,” Judge Tillman began once everyone was seated. “Today’s case is The American Public vs. Leopold James Fitz. Are both sides ready?” 

“Prosecution’s ready, Your Honor.” 

“You bet, Your Honor.” And to Jemma’s abject horror, the defense attorney flashed the judge a thumbs-up. She watched Fitz frantically catch the lawyer’s hand in his, which did not appear to be an easy task while he wearing cuffs, and whisper something harshly to him.

The man looked confused but thankfully did what Fitz asked. 

Judge Tillman asked the bailiff to swear in the jury, and Jemma stood and raised her right hand as instructed. 

“Do each of you swear that you will fairly try the case before this court, and that you will return a true verdict according to the evidence and the instructions of the court, so help you God? Please say ‘I do’.” 

Fitz turned his head to face the jury again.

She looked him square in the eye as she passionately stated, “I do.” 

-

Fitz reluctantly tore his eyes away from her. 

Her affection and support was too much for him to fathom right then, and he needed to be as clear-headed as possible for this case.

Especially because his excuse of an attorney insisted on botching every single step of the process. 

“Can you cry on cue?” Paul whispered to Fitz. 

“Please shut up,” Fitz muttered.

“We will now proceed with opening statements. Plaintiff, you have the floor.” 

The prosecutor stood. “Thank you, Your Honor. Ladies and gentlemen of the Grand Jury, I think we can all agree that we are living in frightening times. We’ve had to stomach alien wars and rogue organizations run by vicious dictators and now, we have to defend ourselves against the ever-increasing inhuman threat. There is a stack of damning evidence against this man,” the prosecutor paused to point at Fitz dramatically. “And his part in all of it. He has allowed his inventions to endanger the lives of so many and has killed several innocent people in his blind ambition for success. It is my fervent desire that once you are presented with said evidence, you will agree that the best course of action is to keep him locked up where he can harm no one else for the rest of his days. Thank you.” 

“This guy’s good,” Paul said nervously. 

Fitz barely heard him. He was too focussed on what the lawyer said about him. 

Aside from the offensive statement about inhumans, the prosector didn’t say anything that Fitz hadn’t considered himself. 

But hearing the harsh accusation hurled at him made him bristle with anger. 

Clearly, the public did not know the full story. 

And until they did, he would always be guilty in their eyes.

And that stung him deeply.

-

Once the prosecutor sat down, the judge gave Fitz’s lawyer the floor. 

He stood up and thanked Judge Tillman and addressed the jury just as the prosecutor had done. 

“I won’t stand here and deny what Mr. Lester said so eloquently a few moments ago. These times are frightening. I’ve witnessed neighbor turn against neighbor. Brother against brother. Husband against wife. Father against son, and daughter against mother.” 

The lawyer exhibited a sense of confidence and charisma that was missing just two minutes ago, and Jemma was impressed with the man’s commanding presence. 

With this man’s talents and her team’s resolve, they really, truly did have a chance. 

-

“The only thing Dr. Leopold Fitz is guilty of is trying to find his place as a talented scientist in this brutal and scary world we find ourselves in. He is just a man who has strived to do the right thing day in and day out. Time and again, he has devoted his energies to making the world a better place. And if you choose to absolve him of crimes he is innocent of, I’ve no doubt he will use his brilliant mind to make our society great again.” 

Fitz stared at him curiously. Paul seemed to know exactly what he was doing. There was no trace of his unprofessionalism in the slightest. And the phrases he chose to use...

He quickly stood up. 

“Mr. Fitz,” Judge Tillman interrupted Paul. “You must take your seat.” 

Fitz ignored him and swiftly walked towards Paul. 

_That fumble with the documents earlier wasn’t an..._

He glanced behind him briefly and spotted the dubious officer’s empty holster.

_Oh, no._

“Mr. Fitz!” 

Paul continued with his statement, his volume increasing with passion and purpose. “There are others far more guilty than he.” 

He reached into his jacket. 

“Gun! He has a gun!” Fitz yelled, running at him with full speed. 

“Humans first!” Paul bellowed, aiming his gun at Daisy.

“Daisy, watch out!” He leapt onto Paul, and they struggled for control of the gun. 

A shot rang out through the courtroom. 

He managed to knock Paul out with the butt of the gun, and then he scrambled off him and looked back at the jury.

His heart stopped. 

Jemma looked at him while her whole body convulsed from shock. 

She had her hand pressed hard against her chest.

But it didn’t stop the blood seeping through her fingers. 

-

Read from the beginning  **[here](http://consoledacup.tumblr.com/tagged/Mine-and-Mine-Alone)**  or  **[here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11280579/chapters/25231047)** , and join in on the pain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ................................................................................ (sorry.)


	7. Sacrifice

Chapter 7: Sacrifice

-

“ **Jemma!**  No!” Fitz screamed.

He rushed towards the jury box, focussed on nothing and no one else. 

An officer grabbed his arm, but instead of surrendering, he used his elbow to jab the man’s ribs hard. 

Another caught him in a firm hold from behind, but Fitz slammed his foot on his toe and threw his head back, hearing a sickening crunch of cartilage. 

Mack had Jemma in his arms. Before Fitz could get to Jemma, Daisy stepped in front, blocking her. 

“Fitz!” She held up her hands in fists, imitating cuffs, and he held his hands out and watched her quake them off of him. 

“Save her!” Fitz screeched to his team who was already on the move. 

Mack barreled through the courtroom, and Fitz sprinted after them without looking back. 

“Stay with me, Jemma!” Fitz yelled frantically. “Stay with me!” 

“You’re coming with us?” Yo-Yo appeared at his side, holding three guns she had confiscated a literal two seconds earlier.

Fitz nodded fervently without slowing down. 

“Get me the  **hell**  out of this place.”

-

_Stay with me, Jemma._

His voice floated through the fog.

_Stay with me._

**It hurt.**

“Fitz...”

_Stay._

_-_

Coulson, May, and Daisy had caught up with them, and the team rushed through the hallway to the building’s exit. 

Lockdown alarms blared through the prison. They knew they had a small window to escape.

Fitz reached for Jemma’s hand as they ran. “Stay with me, Jemma!” 

He exhaled in relief once Daisy quaked the exit doors and Mack, Yo-Yo, and May ran outside. 

There was no doubt that May would get the team out of there quickly and get Jemma the help she needed. 

“Hold it right there.” Coulson, Daisy, and Fitz spun around to face five officers. “I can’t let you leave, Fitz.” Schwartz leveled his gun. 

“Go and tell May to take off. Now!” Fitz said, throwing his hands up.

“What? No. We can take them.” Daisy proved her theory by quaking three of the five. 

“There’s no time. She’s gonna die. You have to save her!” He ran towards Schwartz. “I surrender! I surrender! Let them go.” 

Schwartz looked uncertain, and luckily, his hesitation gave Daisy and Coulson enough time to flee the premises. 

“Damn it!” Schwartz said. “After them!” 

Two officers fled the building, hot on his friends’ trail, but Fitz was confident they were already on the cloaked Zephyr and in the air.

“It’s me you want, not them!” He put his hands out in front of him. “So lock me up again.”

-

_We’re losing her._

Muffled voices.

So cold.

_Losing her._

**Cold.**

-

The heavy door swung shut, trapping Fitz in the cinderblock cell. 

He glanced around, surveying his surroundings. 

There was a bed. 

There was a toilet. 

No window. 

And only a slot through the door that he assumed would be used to deliver his meals. 

The cell was small. Less than half of the size of the one he shared with Conrad. 

_So this is why Conrad looked so scared before._

He thought of Jemma again. 

And the blood. 

And the way her eyes fluttered open and shut as she tried to stay conscious. 

And the way she breathed his name. 

Every part of him physically ached to be there with her. 

He rushed to the toilet and dry heaved violently, clutching his stomach. 

He coughed, wiping his mouth, and stood up in fury. 

He picked up the pillow from the bed and threw it against the wall. He heaved the thin mattress off the metal bench and started screaming, kicking and punching it with all of his might. 

“I hope that bastard rots! You hear me?! I know you can hear me! I hope Paul Lebedev--” 

He stopped. 

_Lebedev._

It was a Russian name. 

He sank to the floor. 

He had unknowingly worked with a Watchdog. 

For  _weeks_. 

And now Jemma was suffering the consequences. 

“Stay with me, Jemma,” he whispered to the silence. “Stay with me.” 

He had to get out of there. 

He didn’t care how. 

He didn’t care who would be affected by his departure. 

He didn’t care if it was through due process in the light of day or an escape in the dead of night. 

He did not deserve to be there. 

He--

He paused. 

“I don’t deserve to be in here,” Fitz said slowly. 

And then he stood, picking up his mattress and placing it on the metal bench.

“I should be with her,” he said louder with more conviction. 

He picked up the pillow and placed it on the mattress. 

“I am not a criminal,” Fitz planted his feet in a confident stance, saying each word with passion and assurance. 

“I am not to blame for the sins of that man. I am not to blame for the Doctor’s actions.”

He nodded, internalizing each word as a needed truth.

“I am not guilty.” 

He shook his head, chuckling a bit. 

“I am not guilty,” he said again. 

Maybe it was the trauma he had experienced that day. 

Maybe his time in prison had left him a bit unhinged. 

Maybe he was going mad, not knowing if Jemma was gonna make it.

But he started laughing. 

“It wasn’t my fault.” 

And he started crying. 

“It wasn’t my fault.” 

He thumped his chest firmly. 

“I am a good person.” 

He wiped his eyes. 

And then he stared the door down.

“I’m Dr. Leopold Fitz,” he said in a clear, loud voice. “And I am an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D.” 

He stepped closer to the door and looked at the camera that was installed in the ceiling corner. 

“I know you’re watching this. You will not break me. This will not break me. I’ve seen worse. You understand? I’ve experienced far worse. I am not your enemy but an ally. I know you don’t believe that. And I’m not gonna waste my energy, trying to explain. But mark my words, and mark them well. My team will save Jemma. And I will make it back to her. And you will never,  _ever_  see me again. How’s that for a dick-piss, Officer Schwartz?”

-

Read from the beginning  **[here](http://consoledacup.tumblr.com/tagged/Mine-and-Mine-Alone)**  or  **[here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11280579/chapters/25231047)** , and join in on the pain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fitz. is. BACK.


	8. Redemption

Mornings in solitary began the exact same way each day. 

Fitz would receive a visit from Schwartz. 

He would stand up from his bed with his hands on his hips and face the officer. 

And the conversation would go like this: 

“Is she okay?” 

“I don’t know.” 

“Will you release me?” 

“No.” 

“I’m innocent.” 

“You harmed two police officers.” 

“I had to save her.” 

“I know.” 

“Is Lebedev in custody?” 

“I cannot disclose that information.” 

“Can I see Conrad?” 

“No.” 

“Then you can see yourself out.” 

And then Schwartz would give him one last look. 

And then Schwartz would sigh heavily and exit Fitz’s cell, slamming the door shut behind him after setting Fitz’s breakfast down on the bed. 

And then Fitz would wait a moment or two before snatching up the plate, stuffing his face with as much as he could stomach. 

He needed to keep his strength up. 

Once he felt satisfied, he would walk the plate to the door. 

And ceremoniously toss the plate and whatever food was left out through the slot. 

-

_“You’re not seriously going to let the cosmos win, are you?” Fitz smirked._

_Jemma shook her head. “Again with the cosmos.”_

_“Seriously. You can’t give it the upper hand.”_

_“Well,_ you  _shouldn’t have given it so much ammunition. Honestly, locking yourself up in prison. I should leave this world just to teach you a lesson.”_

_Fitz’s eyes grew serious. “Don’t say that. Don’t even joke about that. Even here. Not ever, okay?”_

_“I’m not leaving you, Fitz,” Jemma said stubbornly. “Not now. Not ever.”  
_

_“So, you’ll hang on then, right, Jemma? You’ll stay?”  
_

_“I’ll…”  
_

_“Jemma?”  
_

_“I’ll…”  
_

_“Jemma, stay with me!”  
_

Jemma’s eyes flew open. 

-

One week into solitary, Fitz went up to the door slot to receive his lunch from whatever poor sap was assigned to feed him. 

He took the offered meal and started to turn away. 

“Wait! It’s me, man.” 

Fitz put his lunch down in disbelief. “Conrad?” 

“Yeah.” 

“What the hell are you–” 

“I asked Schwartz if I could get you your lunch. Don’t know why he let me, but no complaints here. Look, we probably have two minutes max. But I needed to give you a message.” 

“A message from whom?” 

“The man who called me wouldn’t say. But he told me to give ‘Turbo’ his best. Does that mean anything to you?” 

Fitz bent over and placed his hands on his thighs, overcome. “Yeah,” he managed to choke out. “Yeah, it does.” 

“Jemma’s alive.” 

Fitz closed his eyes, nodding. 

“Fitz?” 

“Yeah, I…” Fitz cleared this throat. “I heard you. And she’s… she’s okay?” 

“Yeah, he said she’s been asking for you.”

Tears steadily fell down Fitz’s cheeks as he chuckled.

“Classified line of work, huh?” 

“I’m S.H.I.E.L.D.” 

“No shit you are.” 

Fitz exhaled heavily. “Thank you, Conrad. You don’t know what this means to me.” 

“Hey, I was in that courtroom too, man. I know exactly what this means to you.” 

“She’s alive,” Fitz said almost giddily. 

“Alright, Romeo. My time’s up.” 

“Yeah, okay.” 

Conrad left. 

And once he was gone, Fitz fell to his knees. 

And wept.

-

“Fitz knows,” May said from her spot next to Jemma’s bed. 

“Thank God.” 

“And according to Daisy’s surveillance, he’s still in solitary.” 

“But he’s putting up a fight,” Jemma added.

May nodded, smiling a little. “We want to try again and get him out of there.” 

“Now that he actually wants to leave?” 

May nodded again in response.

“My one reservation is I can’t go with you.” 

-

“Will you release me?” 

“What, you’re not gonna ask about her?” 

“No.” 

“Okay.” 

“I’m innocent.” 

“You harmed two police officers.” 

“I had to save her.” 

“I know.” 

“Is Lebedev in custody?” 

“I cannot disclose that information.” 

“Can I see Conrad?” 

“No.” 

“Then you can see yourself out.” 

-

Coulson called a meeting, and the team gathered around in Jemma’s hospital room.

“Change of plans with the operation, guys.” 

“What does that even mean?” Daisy asked. “What change?” 

“We’re gonna postpone it.” 

“What? You can’t,” Jemma argued. “He’s been in there for so long already.” 

“Yeah, but I don’t think he’s gonna need us much longer.” 

“Enough with the vague, Coulson. What are you not telling us?” May rolled her eyes.

“I just got off the phone with Meredith Tredwyck. Guess who just woke up.” 

-

“Will you release me?” 

“Yes.” 

“I’m– come again?” 

“Leopold James Fitz, you are hereby cleared of any crimes you have wrongfully been accused of.”

“I don’t understand. I can go?” Fitz asked, dumbfounded. 

“Yes.” 

“And I’ll leave with a clean record?” 

“Yes.” 

“With no parole?” 

“Yes.” 

“Some explanation would be nice,” Fitz said in annoyance.

“Your release is a direct order from Brigadier General Glenn Talbot himself.” 

Fitz brought a hand to his mouth. “He’s awake?” 

“Since yesterday.” 

“Huh.” 

“Don’t tell me you actually want to spend more time in here than you have to.” 

Fitz put a hand up. “No. I’m going. I’m going.” He started walking and then paused in the doorway. “Talbot didn’t happen to say where my team was, did he?” 

“The hell should I–” 

“Yeah. Right. I’ll figure it out.”

Schwartz and a couple other officers escorted him through the hallways, and Fitz couldn’t help buzzing with nervous energy. 

_He could leave. He cou--_

“Wait.” 

The officers halted. 

“Conrad… did General Talbot say anything about him?” 

Schwartz scoffed. “Why on earth would he say something about Conrad?” 

“What’s Conrad in here for anyway?” 

“Murder. First degree.” 

Fitz nodded. “Well, can you pass along a message for me?” 

“Jot down whatever love note you want to give to your butt buddy, and I’ll make sure he gets it.” 

“Thanks... I think.” 

Once they arrived to the entrance of the facility, Fitz grabbed a post-it note and a pen and feverishly scrawled out the following:

## 

##  _**Conrad,** _

##  _**  
I don’t know the circumstances that brought you to this point, but what I do know is you’re not a bad person.** _

##  _**It’s a choice. Everyday, we choose to be good.** _

##  _**And there is goodness in you. I’ve seen it.** _

##  _**Never forget that.** _

##  _**Fitz** _

__

He handed the note to Schwartz. “Thanks.” 

The officer nodded, opened his mouth to say something else, but apparently decided against it and just said, “You can collect your things and sign that you received them straight through that door.”

He walked away without another word.

Fitz did as Schwartz instructed and then changed into his civilian clothes. 

The same ones he wore to help Ophelia save Mack.

He wanted to burn the damn aubergine shirt.

And then that was that. 

He left.

He turned on his phone, exceedingly grateful he had taken the time to rig a long-lasting battery life on the damn thing.

And pressed the call button. 

“Sir? This is Agent Fitz, reporting in. Can someone come get me?” 

-

Read from the beginning  **[here](http://consoledacup.tumblr.com/tagged/Mine-and-Mine-Alone)**  or  **[here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11280579/chapters/25231047)** , and join in on the pain.


	9. Love

Fitz exited the coffee shop, keeping his head down and ignoring those who turned around to get a second look. 

Now that his name was cleared, at least with the U.S. government, he didn’t think he was in any danger, but he was also a spy, so... (after asking politely) he had managed to nick a hat and sunglasses from the unclaimed civilian items before he left the prison.

He took a sip of his hot tea. 

_Heaven._

And then he took a bite of his banana chocolate chip muffin. 

_Also heaven._

He waited at the specified coordinates, and in no time, the Zephyr materialized right in front of him. 

He almost wept from sheer relief of seeing that jet again. 

And if that was any indication of how the reunion with his team would go, he suspected he was in for many tears. 

He boarded the Zephyr and walked to the cockpit. He sat in the copilot seat, handing May a green tea. “Good to see you again, Agent May.” 

She took it, smiling. 

“I’d offer you some of my muffin, but I’m bloody starving.” 

-

Jemma answered her phone the minute his number popped on the screen.

“Fitz.” 

_“Hi, Jemma.”_

“It is...” Jemma blinked back tears. “It is good to hear your voice.” 

_“Yeah.”_ There was silence on the other line.  _“Yours too,”_ he finally said, and she could tell he was already choked up.

“You’re coming?” 

_“Mm-hmm. I’m on the Zephyr with May right now.”_

“Hurry up, then.” 

_“Believe me, Jemma, I’ve already been pestering her about it.”_

Jemma giggled. “Not a smart idea.” 

_“I’ve had worse.”_

They both grew quiet after that.

_“I should go. But I’ll see you soon, okay?”  
_

“I’ll see you soon,” Jemma swallowed thickly. “Bye, Fitz.” 

_“Bye, Jemma.”_

She ended the call and placed the phone on the little bedside table next to her. 

She was still very tired and weak, but she couldn’t fight the burst of energy coursing through her as she thought of seeing Fitz again. 

He was different.

There was a lightness to his voice and a softness to his tone. 

He didn’t sound weighed down as much as he did before. 

She knew the trauma he experienced in the Framework, not to mention in prison, would always stay with him in one way or another.

But talking to him on the phone just now made her feel like he was done surrendering to his guilt. 

And was ready to fight. 

-

May touched down in Zürich, Switzerland where she led him through the underground base. 

“Coulson wanted to wait for Simmons to recover more before we relocated her. Since this is walking distance from Trauma Zentrum...”

“...you guys camped out here for a bit. Incredible.” Fitz marveled at the impressive infrastructure and the futuristic, modern look the base exhibited. It was night and day, compared to the Playground, but seeing the S.H.I.E.L.D. logo and the dozen or so agents milling about made him feel like he was home. 

“This way to the garage.” 

May started walking without glancing back. 

Fitz hurried to catch up with her. “I thought you said the hospital was--” 

“That doesn’t mean we have to walk. I mean... unless you want to take your time getting there?” May smirked. 

“Nope. No, driving’s good.” 

He followed her to the garage and hopped into the passenger seat of a sleek-looking Lexus once May opened the door on the driver’s side. 

May started the car and exited the base.

“I should’ve brought flowers,” Fitz mumbled. 

May veered through several back roads before turning to him briefly. “You boarded a jet immediately after leaving a prison you had been in for nine weeks. You should’ve had a shower.” 

“Thanks for that.”

-

_"You need to go.”_

_“You need to remember me!” Jemma cried desperately. “And Fitz and Agent May and all the good that we have done. Your friends depend on you, and this world is a lie!”_

_“I have tried to be nice to you, but that’s enough. I don’t know you--”  
_

_“Sir, you need to remember her.” Jemma spun around to find Fitz with his arms crossed, glaring at Coulson with a look of betrayal. “Why don’t you remember her?”  
_

_“Fitz!” Jemma rushed to him and gripped his forearm. “You remember me?”_

_He drew her into a crushing hug, and she yelped in pain. He pulled away quickly. “What’s happened? Are you okay?” He untied the belt of her coat and stared at the stains on her sweater. “You’ve been shot?”_

_Jemma shook her head, trying to assure him. “No, no. My digital construct has. I’m fine.” But as even as she said that, her chest constricted painfully, and she placed a hand over the tender spot. “You remember me?”_

_“Jemma,” Fitz chided kindly. “I could never forget you. You came here to save me. To rescue me.”  
_

_“Oh, Fitz._ Yes _. Yes, I did.” The relief with him knowing who she was overwhelmed her, and she brought a hand to his face, stroking it gently. “I couldn’t let her take you away from me.”_

_Fitz reached up, catching her hand in his tenderly and kept it where it was. But when she looked at him again, he was wearing an orange jumpsuit, and the metal of his handcuffs suddenly scratched against her wrist._

_“Fitz?” She asked confusedly. “What’s going on?”  
_

_The moment she asked, they found themselves at a park bench. Fitz’s beard had grown more, and his eyes became sunken in as he kneeled on the ground, frantically digging with his shackled hands._

_“It’s here. It’s here somewhere, Jemma. You need it.”  
_

_“Need what, Fitz?” Another sharp pang reverberated through Jemma, and she held her chest, crying out.  
_

_“Jemma!” Fitz leapt to his feet, shoving the device in her hand. “Take it, Jemma.”  
_

_And then they were in the pod at the bottom of the ocean. “Take it, Jemma.” Fitz repeated. “You have to wake up.”_

_“No,” Jemma shook her head fiercely. “No. I’m not leaving you.”  
_

_“Take it.”  
_

_“No.”_

_They were in Gloucestershire, England, staring at the liquid monolithic portal._

_“Take it.”  
_

_“You can’t do this. You can’t leave me.”  
_

_“I won’t,” Fitz said fiercely. “I promise. But you have to wake up.”  
_

_“No. Not without you.”  
_

_“Jemma.” Fitz covered her hands with his as well as he could while wearing cuffs._

_And then they were back in the park._

_“You’ll see me soon. But you have to let me go. If you do, you’ll see me soon.”  
_

_“I don’t believe you.” She grimaced as she felt more soreness in her chest. “Come with me.”  
_

_Fitz looked at her sadly. “I can’t.”_

_And then he was gone._

_She started screaming for him._

_She gripped the device and pressed the backdoor button._

_But nothing happened._

_And she was alone._

_-_

May walked Fitz to Jemma’s door. “You can take it from here.” 

“Yeah. Yeah, I can. Thanks, May.” 

May nodded and left. 

He took a deep breath.

He balled up his hands in fists and moved closer to Jemma’s room, taking the liberty to peer inside. 

She was asleep. 

He took another deep breath and opened the door. Stepping inside, he closed it softly behind him. 

His feet carried him closer and closer to her. 

He smiled. 

She looked much better than the last time he had seen her. There was more color to her cheeks. Her breathing was even. 

She was clearly on the mend. 

She was beautiful. 

He sat in the chair by her bed and gingerly took her hand in both of his. 

He pressed his lips to her hand. 

He reveled in the quiet of her steady breathing and the feel of her hand in his again. 

He reveled in finally being  **home**. 

Keeping her hand where it was, he leaned over and smoothed her hair with his other one, and his thumb stroked her forehead softly. 

He kissed her hand again. 

“Jemma,” he whispered. 

He bent down to kiss her forehead. 

“Jemma,” he whispered again. 

He watched her eyelids slowly flutter open, and she blinked rapidly a bit before her eyes landed on him.

“Fitz,” she said with a sleepy smile. 

“Hi, Jemma.” 

“You’re here.” 

“Yeah. I’m here.” He kissed her forehead again. “I'm here.” 

-

She closed her eyes for a brief, blissful moment and opened them when he sat back in the chair. 

He brought her hand to his lips. “How do you feel?” 

“Better now,” Jemma smiled.

Fitz’s eyes grew serious. “You almost died.” 

“But I didn’t.” 

“And that’s supposed to make me feel better?” 

“Yes,” Jemma said stubbornly. “Because I’m here.” 

He traced patterns on the back of her hand with his thumb. 

“Jemma.” 

“I know what you’re gonna say.” 

“If I had just listened to you guys and stayed instead of giving myself up--

“But you didn’t, Fitz.” 

He gripped her hand tighter. “And I almost lost you. Again. Because of it.” 

“I am fine,” she said firmly. 

Fitz scowled. “I beg to differ.” 

“Fitz.” She withdrew her hand from his and touched his face gently. “I missed you,” she said simply. 

“I missed you too,” Fitz turned his head to kiss her palm. “So much.” He paused. “And.” He looked down and then back up to meet her eyes again. “There’s something I’ve wanted to say to you. For a bit now.” 

Jemma tilted her head curiously. 

He scooted his chair closer to the bed. 

He picked her hand back up again, squeezing gently. 

“I know what our last words to each other were in the Framework. My last words, specifically.” 

“Fitz...” 

“Please. I need to get this out. Let me, okay?” His eyes pleaded with hers, and she nodded. “I know what my last words were. And I don’t even know if I can talk about what I wanted to do.” He bowed his head in shame.

“He wasn’t you.” 

He lifted his head again. “I’m starting to believe that. I am. It’s just gonna take me time, Jemma.” 

Jemma nodded, forcing a smile.

“But in case it wasn’t abundantly clear, in case you had any doubts, in case I haven’t done all I could to make it known...” He cupped her face with one hand and kept her hand in his other. “You mean everything to me.  _Everything_.” 

Jemma eyes began to well up.

She pulled away. 

And then she patted the space next to her. 

“You must be exhausted.” 

-

Fitz chuckled. “Yeah.” He climbed onto the bed, taking great care to not jostle the bed or her. “And I’m hungry too.” He scooted closer to her. “May says I need a shower.” 

Jemma wrinkled her nose. “She’s not wrong, Fitz.” 

“Well you still invited me up here last time I checked, so...” 

Their eyes met.

“I did,” she said simply. 

He scooted even more and sat up a little. 

Careful to avoid her torso and chest region, he put his thumb and forefinger under her chin and gently guided her face to his. 

And then he kissed her. 

-

Read from the beginning  **[here](http://consoledacup.tumblr.com/tagged/Mine-and-Mine-Alone)**  or  **[here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11280579/chapters/25231047)** , and join in on the pain.


	10. Retribution

A buzzing noise interrupted Fitz’s blissful slumber, and he snuggled closer to Jemma, wishing desperately the noise would go away. 

Fitz opened his eyes.

He blinked a couple of times and then turned his head slightly towards...

_Her_. 

He still couldn’t--

_Damn it_. 

He finally realized what the noise was and reached for her phone. 

“Yeah?” 

_“Glad to see prison hasn’t taken away your phone etiquette.”_

“Can I help you, Daisy? Jemma’s sleeping.” Fitz said irritably. 

_“We’re all coming for you two in fifteen. Coulson wanted me to give you a heads up. I told him in Jemma’s condition, you guys definitely wouldn’t be doing--”  
_

“Yeah, okay. Okay. I get it. Tell him ‘thanks’. We’ll be ready.” He ended the call and set Jemma’s phone back on the little table.

Jemma stirred. “Fitz.” 

Fitz turned back towards her and put a hand on her shoulder. 

“They’ll be here soon,” he said.

“Right.” She tried to sit, and Fitz rushed to help ease her up gently. “This was nice. Just us.” 

Fitz smiled. “Yeah, it was.” 

“But we...” Jemma reached for his hand. “We obviously have a lot to talk about.” 

“We do.” 

“So at the risk of this being another unfinished conversation...” Jemma trailed off, looking at Fitz meaningfully. 

“I understand. And we’ll finish this one.”  

-

And once again, the team gathered themselves in Jemma’s room. She should’ve been annoyed that this was the only spot they could be where she could be an equal participant, but while she was fully on the mend, she still had a long way to go in terms of healing. 

So instead of annoyed, she was grateful that they had all stuck around in Switzerland to be near her. 

Coulson didn’t say anything about Fitz or his return which was just as well. 

She knew Fitz preferred it that way. 

But that didn’t exclude Fitz from the topic at hand and the reason Coulson had summoned everyone together. 

“Paul Lebedev,” Coulson began the briefing. “Watchdog. Faithful follower of the Superior. Went off the grid after the Superior’s capture. Only showed up recently to work on Fitz’s case.” 

“Which turned out to be a farce used to get closer to Daisy,” Fitz added bitterly.

“So where is this guy now?” Yo-Yo questioned. 

“We don’t know,” Coulson said. “But once we do, you, Mack, Fitz, and May will pursue this son of a bitch and bring him in.” 

Jemma bit her tongue, saying nothing.

She did not like where this was headed. 

-

Fitz devoted equal parts of his time to attending to Jemma and finding Lebedev in the days that followed.

On the fifth day of his return, Jemma was able to leave her bed and go on short walks. 

She gripped his forearm firmly with both hands as he led her around the little garden in the back.

“You’re upset,” Fitz said without preamble.

“I am.” 

Fitz sighed. “Do I even have to guess why?” 

“No.” 

“Jemma.” He helped her sit on the partially shaded bench. “I have to do this.” 

Jemma winced, presumably from the pain. “You always say that.” 

Fitz rolled his eyes. “No, I don’t.” 

“Well, you always seem to believe it then.” 

“They need me to ID the guy.” 

Jemma shook her head. “But that’s not why you’re going.” 

Fitz sat down next to her, taking her hand. “Is it so awful of me to want to make him pay for what he did to you?” 

“It’s not. But you’re sounding more like--” 

“Stop.” 

Jemma pressed on. “More like the Doc--” 

Fitz let go of her hand. “Don’t.” 

“Fitz,” Jemma whispered, blinking back tears. “You can’t let that man define you.” 

“I know. And I’m trying not to. But that part of...  _him_? The part that’s rooted in such a deep devotion that he’ll do whatever it takes to defend and protect? That was never from him. That was from me. And it’s been a part of me for years. Since the Academy. When I met you.” 

“When we weren’t even speaking--” 

Fitz reached up, holding her cheek tenderly. “You know that’s not what I meant.” 

Jemma swallowed. “If you do this. If you go and seek revenge, I don’t know if there’ll be any incentive from me when you... for you to keep that devotion. I refuse to just watch you keep making such reckless choices--” 

“The incentive  _is_  you. Nothing else matters.” 

Jemma chuckled humorlessly. “Right.” 

“Jemma--” 

“You know, I’m actually feeling quite tired. Would you mind? Then you can go back to your little project.” 

Fitz was solemn, reaching out a hand.

“Okay.” 

They walked back in silence and were midway through her hospital room when Daisy rushed in breathless. 

“We found him.” 

-

Jemma felt Fitz stiffen beside her. “When do we leave?” 

“You have an hour. Meet them in the hangar in tactical.” 

“Thanks, Daisy.” 

Daisy looked at Jemma for a brief moment and then back at Fitz. “Good luck.” 

She left them alone.

The air become stale between them again. 

Fitz helped her to the bed and eased her down. If she could’ve had it her way, she would’ve reached for the blankets herself, but the pain in doing that sounded unbearable, so she begrudgingly let him tuck her in.

“You’ll be careful.” 

Fitz studied her, bringing both of her hands to his chest. “I will,” he murmured huskily.

She very softly, gently, removed her hands from his.

He let her.

“Go.” 

He hesitated, and she could see he was hurting. But he just nodded and stepped away from her. He paused in the doorway, placing his hand on the frame.

Jemma tried to give him a small smile of encouragement. 

He tried to do the same.

They were terrible liars.

-

Fitz sat across from Yo-Yo and Mack on the Zephyr, and none of the three spoke, each seemingly occupied with their own thoughts. After a bit, Yo-Yo got up from her seat, announcing she was going to check on May, and squeezed Mack’s arm when she walked past. 

“Things with Yo-Yo must be going well.” 

Mack raised his eyebrows. “Really? After nine weeks? That’s your opening line?”

Fitz shrugged. 

“Look, buddy. I get that you’ve been through the wringer. We all have. But you really hurt us.” 

“I know. And I’m--” 

“No.” Mack held up a hand. “I don’t want to hear it. Because I’m still not convinced you mean it.” 

“What? My apology? I am sorry you were--” 

“There it is. You’re still fixated on our pain. Pain that could have been prevented had you listened to us back there at the base.” 

“I stand by what I did,” Fitz said stubbornly.

“And that’s where we’re at an impasse. Because until you realize what you did was stupid and self-serving, I don’t want to hear it.” 

Fitz sighed heavily, refusing to look at him. “I thought I deserved it.” 

“I know.” Mack said. “And... do you still think that?” 

“No.” 

“Now we’re getting somewhere.” 

-

The grounded members of the team reconvened in Jemma’s room. Daisy was on the edge of the bed, and Coulson was sitting in the chair, and all three of them were talking at once. 

“I cannot believe you’d let him--” 

“I should be there. The guy was after--” 

“There’s no way you’re going anywhere near that--” 

“I was so stupid. The disguise didn’t work at--” 

“He now has a personal vendetta--” 

“He wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer, Jemma.” Coulson said with finality. 

The room fell silent. 

“I saw it,” Jemma's voice was quiet.

“Saw what?” Coulson asked.

Jemma took a deep breath. “The look in his eyes before he left. It was the same one the Doctor had when he tried to kill me.” 

-

They tracked Lebedev all the way to an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of D.C.

The team spit up with each member taking a different corridor. 

Fitz held his gun out in front of him. 

Ready to fight. 

He turned a corner. 

_“All clear here,”_ May said through comms. 

_“Same on my end,”_  Mack replied. 

_“Here too,”_  Yo-Yo chimed in. 

Fitz stared, unmoving, at the sight in front of him. 

Paul Lebedev had his hands lifted in surrender in a silent plea, and there was no weapon in sight.

_“Agent Fitz,”_  May’s voice filtered through again.  _“Report in.”_

Fitz eyed the man in front of him and then, with absolutely no hesitation, he aimed the gun at Paul’s shoulder and pulled the trigger. 

Paul cried out in pain, crumpling to the floor.

Fitz activated his comms, pressing two fingers to his ear.

His voice came out deadly calm.

“Nothing here either. I’ll keep looking.” 

-

Read from the beginning  **[here](http://consoledacup.tumblr.com/tagged/Mine-and-Mine-Alone)**  or  **[here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11280579/chapters/25231047)** , and join in on the pain.


End file.
